


Just a Job

by daphnerunning



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s the faintest tinge of guilt on the man’s face, which Levi finds rather amusing. It’s not guilty enough for this to be his first time leaving marks on a whore, and it’s too guilty for a man who doesn’t care. God, he’s full of contradictions, this upper-class son of a bitch with 3-D Maneuver Gear marks all over his body and scars that say he’s seen action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based (with the author's permission) on this amazing comic! http://commanders-pants.tumblr.com/post/62725499476/levi-and-erwin-prostitute-art-levi-being-the

It’s just another day, and he’s just another man.

Levi hardly notices anymore. It’s been three years now, and everything feels as routine as life on the streets ever had.

Wake up in the mid-afternoon. Bathe. Eat. Trade half his food to one of the other boys for an extra turn in the bath. Wait for nightfall. Take a last shit and clean everything out.

When the lights go on, there’s a subtle change in the atmosphere. It’s boring. Some of the new kids still get excited, and their anticipation is laughable. All men are the same, once you’ve been here long enough.

At least he has a bed of his own. It’s not large, but they wash the sheets every day, because some of the sluts they pick up off the streets aren’t as fastidious about getting clean before they climb into bed as Levi is. 

When he was younger, he’d thought they were the disgusting pigs. Now he knows they’re just too shaken or too jaded to bother. He always bothers, no matter how shaken, how injured, how tired he is.

He hasn’t been shaken for a while, now. Every man is the same.

His first client today is a regular. He’s some tax collector, staff personnel that works for the Military Police. He likes to talk about his very important job, and he’s vanilla as fuck. He’s already waiting in the client room when Levi shows up, his manager giving a jerk of his head. “Manager” is a cute name for “pimp,” but at least he doesn’t ask for much more of a cut than a blow now and then.

The name the guy gives is Pierre, and Levi would bet a sack of the cash he’s skimming off the top that isn’t his real name. There isn’t much between his legs, but Levi does his best, and at least it doesn’t make his jaw ache by the time he’s done.

“You’re such a good listener,” Pierre murmurs, touching his hair, and Levi only narrowly refrains from asking, “Were you talking?”

It’s about half an hour until he’s back in his room. His manager isn’t thrilled, leaning on the door frame as soon as he gets back.

“We talked, Levi.”

“Yeah.”

“You know you’re not supposed to mouth off to the customers.”

“Fuck off, Ted, it’s just Pierre, he doesn’t give a shit.”

“He said you were being a rude little cunt.”

“He’ll come back.” Levi scrubs at his face and neck with a damp cloth, all the bathing he has time for. “I got anyone else tonight?”

Ted scowls, looking down at his clipboard. “Yeah, but you don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah?”

“Another bigwig. You sound like his type, or I’d give him to Lucas.”

Levi stretches out his arms, hearing a little popping noise. Getting old is for suckers. “He ask for anything special?”

“Nah, but he’s a big guy. Lemme know if he leaves bruises.”

Ted doesn’t really give a shit about Levi’s well-being, but he’ll be more than happy to charge extra for any bruises left on his property. 

Unlike Pierre, this man isn’t waiting naked and on his back, big belly pretty much hiding what little he’s got. This guy is sitting in one of the chairs, drink in hand, wearing a tailored suit with shoes that shine. His hair is perfect, something Levi finds annoying; no one with muscles and tone like this guy has should be keeping still enough that he should have perfect hair.

Levi closes the door behind himself, leaning back against it. The man’s eyes go to him, traveling to his face first, then down, and very slowly up again. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

One of Levi’s eyebrows raises, but he answers politely enough, even if the empty words feel too-sweet and meaningless in his mouth. “Pleasure’s all mine, but not for long.” He hasn’t survived in a fucking brothel for years without learning to play the game.

The man gives him a brief smile. “I’ll bet. Is there a name I can call you?”

Smart man, and he’s done this before, Levi knows immediately. First-timers ask, _What’s your name?_ This guy knows how it works, and his hand on the glass is steady as a rock. No nerves there. “Is there a name you want to call me?”

“Not particularly. We can skip that, if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m not here to ruffle any feathers.”

There’s something about the way the man moves that makes Levi hungry. For him, yes, but he’s trained himself to want just about any man that has cash in his pocket. More than that, there’s something practiced, precise, as if every motion he makes is deliberate and planned that makes Levi hungry for the kind of life this man must lead. “I wanna take your clothes off.”

One blond eyebrow raises, and the little smile on the man’s face is amused. “All right.”

Levi moves, and at least he knows he can do this much right, even if Ted thinks he’s pretty shit at his job (though not so shit he doesn’t get customers coming back all the time). His hands slide under the lapels of the pressed black jacket, and ah, shit, he was right, there’s broad hard muscles just about everywhere. 

The man finishes his drink, and murmurs, “Would you like me to stand?” Those blue eyes are too close, and with the warmth of his chest against Levi’s hands, it’s the first time something has felt intimate in years.

_ Shit, get it together. You haven’t even taken his fucking coat off yet, dumbfuck. _

That doesn’t stop Levi from being hard as a rock, even as he curses himself out. It disarms him, wanting to know about where this man comes from, why he’s here, what his job is that keeps him so physically fit when he’s obviously wealthy--laborers are supposed to be broke as fuck, and this man doesn’t seem to care. 

He hasn’t wanted to know anything about one of his clients in a while, and that’s kind of unsettling.

The man stands, and Levi scowls. “There’s no need to be that tall,” he mutters, and jerks the black coat off his shoulders, folding it neatly before laying it over the side of the chair.

“You don’t have to fold it,” the man just says, but he’s smiling, and for the first time, he reaches for Levi, two large, warm, calloused hands cupping his face. “I’d like to kiss you.”

“You would be a fucking weird one,” Levi complains, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it when the man brushes his lips against Levi’s, deepening the kiss softly, and shit, shit, shit, a little brush of a tongue and the slight scrape of teeth shouldn’t be enough to make him twitch.

He’s got to get control back. Slender fingers make quick work of the buttons on that expensive shirt, and Levi feels like snarling when he sees the broad, toned chest revealed--until he sees the marks.

He sucks in a breath, looking up with more alert eyes than anyone has seen from him in a long time. The man looks down, knowing what he sees, saying nothing, volunteering nothing.

_Fine._

Levi strips the man in record time, tosses off his own clothes and shoves him down onto the bed, hearing a grunt. “You’re stronger than you look.”  


“Problem?”

“I like it.”

Ted had said that Levi was this guy’s “type.” At the time, Levi had thought he meant small, since they get a lot of guys that like a boy they can throw around, and he's the one that can take it the best.

Now, he’s not so sure.

He climbs on top, and lets the man run big hands over his skin, mapping and exploring it with practiced, experienced fingers. It _should_ feel routine. It isn’t like he hasn’t had a man’s hands on his body every day for years now.

Something about the heat that blazes in those blue eyes makes it a little different, and that pisses Levi off. 

He settles his knees to either side of the man’s hips, and reaches down to grab at his cock, but the man catches his wrist first.

That’s a first. No one’s usually fast enough to catch him when he moves.

“Just wait a moment,” the man murmurs, and sits up, pulling Levi onto his lap. “Let me enjoy you first.”

Then there are lips on his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, down to brush against a nipple before moving back up to his lips. The man takes his time, and there’s no hesitation, no quiver in strong arms when they circle around to slide down to the small of his back, holding him firm. 

“I changed my mind,” the man murmurs against his skin. “Give me something to call you.”

“Eli.” It has most of the sounds of his real name, and that’s usually good enough to make him look up when someone calls it.

“Eli.”

Just for a minute, Levi wishes that was his real name. Even more dangerous, he kind of wants to hear the way his real name sounds in this man’s mouth.

_Get it the fuck together. It’s just a job._

He rocks on the man’s lap, letting himself be touched, stroked, kissed, nuzzled. His hands come up, tracing over old scars on the man’s back, up his shoulders, the pads of his fingers finding marks wherever they go.

The man nips at his neck, and Levi hisses a little through his teeth, his fingers digging into the man’s shoulders. 

“Sorry, was that too hard?” he murmurs.

Levi shakes his head. “You can mark me up if you want,” he breathes, scooting forward to let the head of his cock rub against the man’s abdomen. “They’ll just make you pay more for it downstairs.”

There’s the faintest tinge of guilt on the man’s face, which Levi finds rather amusing. It’s not guilty enough for this to be his first time leaving marks on a whore, and it’s too guilty for a man who doesn’t care. God, he’s full of contradictions, this upper-class son of a bitch with 3-D Maneuver Gear marks all over his body and scars that say he’s seen action. 

There’s only so much teasing, nipping, touching he can take, and Levi grabs the man’s hand and shoves it down to his cock, bucking up against that warm, broad hand. “Feel how hard I am for you?” he breathes in the man’s ear. “You think I get like this with just anyone?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

Wow, fuck this guy and his questions. Levi hopes he doesn’t look too annoyed, but the look on the man’s face says he does. “Whatever,” Levi mutters, shifting back to rub his ass against the man’s cock. “You wanna fuck me? Or you want something else?”

“What if I just wanted to touch you for a while?” That little smile is gone, replaced by a fierce intensity Levi isn’t sure he wants to see. “Is that on the menu?”

“Your money,” Levi says, but it’s disconcerting. “You don’t like my ass or something? I can use my fucking mouth if it’s too dirty, Princess.”

He can’t even bring himself to regret the words, no matter how big this asshole’s wallet is. It’s not like he’ll get to see most of the cash anyway. Not like he has much of a use for it. 

“I never said that. I want it just fine.” The man’s hands slide down to grip his ass, squeezing gently. “We can do that, if you want.”

Levi’s face flushes low and angry. How is it suddenly _his_ idea? His hands tighten on the man’s shoulders, and he breathes in slow and deep. “Yeah. I want it.”

“Do you?” The man shrugs slightly, and shifts his hips so the head of his cock rubs against Levi’s hole, sliding forward and back, feeling the slickness already there. “And you’re all ready for it, too.”

“Usually it turns guys on that I’m all greased up and ready to go.”

“I didn’t say it didn’t turn me on.”

Levi’s pretty sure he hates this guy.

For all the scars on his body, he’s gentle when he squeezes, guides Levi down onto his cock, pushing harder when it takes a second for the head to go in. Levi waits for it, gasping, but this man isn’t like most of them, doesn’t remark, _so tight, for a whore_. 

Then again, most men close their eyes. They think of the one they really want to be with, whoever’s face is supposed to be stuck onto the hole they stick their dicks into. 

This man looks straight at him. Not at his lips, not at his bobbing cock, not at where he’s stretched almost uncomfortably wide around the girth of that thick cock, but at his eyes. 

And when he surges in deep, he breathes the name Levi had given him, and he wishes for a crazy second that he’d given his real name.

He buries his face in the man’s chest, forgetting for a second to hold his nose the way he usually does whenever he gets too close to a client’s skin. It doesn’t matter, because the man smells startlingly good, clean and fresh and not all soaked with nasty perfume like most from Above. 

(Levi can tell in a second that this man has grown up in the sunlight, tended by nannies and playing under supervision, not beating rats off of his food and wondering how old he’d have to be to get taken seriously as a thief or a hooker, whatever paid the bills first. Fuck, this guy’s probably smelled real roses, uncut and on the vine. Levi’s seen them, far away and through fences.)

A hard, sucking bite to his neck at the same time as the man thrusts in deep combine to force a whimper from his throat, and Levi clings harder to the man’s neck. “Shit, do that again,” he mutters, forgetting himself, forgetting his place, forgetting everything but how good it feels to be fucked by this man.

_ It’s just a job, dumbfuck, don’t make such a big deal out of it. _

It doesn’t feel like “just a job,” not when the man does as he says, biting and sucking and thrusting in deep and slow, strong arms taking over when Levi’s thighs start quivering, raising him up and lowering him down in time with rhythmic thrusts. 

Every now and then, the man will pull away from marking him up to stare into his eyes for a minute, hips never slowing, never stopping. If anything, looking in Levi’s eyes makes him harder, and Levi groans when that cock swells inside him even more. 

He thinks for a minute that this guy is going to take forever (he _hates_ that), but it’s probably no more than ten minutes before the man admits, “I’m close. Where do you want it, Eli?”

“S’fine to do it inside,” Levi slurs a little, resting his forehead against the man’s chest, humping back onto that thick cock stuffing him full. “Or on me, wherever you want.”

_Shit._

It’s unprofessional, but one of the man’s thrusts catches him just right, and the head of his cock bumps against the man’s stomach, and Levi hisses out a startled breath, hips snapping down and fingernails digging into the man’s back, and he chokes down a noise when he comes hard, spilling over the man’s belly, dripping down onto his own thighs.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

At least the man doesn’t seem to notice how fucking embarrassing that is from the way his thrusts speed up, get uneven, and his hands dig deep into Levi’s hips, yanking him down hard with every surge of his hips. The slap of flesh on flesh fills the room, and Levi can only let out pathetic little noises, cursing his own immature idiocy, trying to ride out the iron grip and consuming thrusts of the man fucking him hard.

He’s still leaking when the man lets out a grunt and comes deep inside him, legs twitching, hands scrabbling for purchase on the man’s back. Powerful arms encircle him as the man buries himself once, twice, three more times, twitching and spurting deep into him before he stills. 

Levi tries to take a deep breath, but it’s shaky. His nails are still sunken into the man’s shoulders, and he uncurls his hands in a hurry. “Shit, sorry, I think I scratched you, _fuck_ —”

“It’s fine.” The man’s voice is deeper now, a husky rumble that makes Levi shiver down to his toes.

“It’s fucking unprofessional of me, we’re not supposed to mark any of the—”

“I said it’s fine.” The man pulls back slightly, brushing sweat-damp hair back from Levi’s face and giving him another soft kiss. “No one’s going to see.”

Somehow, this man, this wealthy, successful, handsome man, doesn’t have a wife. That doesn’t make sense to Levi, but he’ll take it, since it means he won’t get in trouble. He wriggles a little, making a face as the man’s softening cock slips out of his ass, followed by a gush of liquid. “Gross,” he mutters, and shifts back away from the cooling spot on the bed.

“Are you always so fastidious, or do I seem especially dirty?” the man asks, mildly amused for all his relaxed posture. 

“You’re clean enough,” Levi says begrudgingly, as if there is such a thing. He sighs, and raises up onto his knees. “You wanna watch it drip out? Some guys like that.”

The man reaches for his jacket and pulls out a pressed white handkerchief. “I don’t mind cleaning you up, if that’s an acceptable substitute.”

Levi swallows. This fucking guy throws him off his game, makes him think things he shouldn’t, and he _hates_ that. “Sure.” 

He lets himself be moved, expecting to be facedown, but the man gets him to lay on his side, sliding up behind him to wipe gently between his thighs. “Just let me know if I miss anything,” he murmurs, and Levi shivers a little.

The touch of the cloth is soft, and Levi grabs it for a moment. “That’s better stuff than we get down here,” he says, fingering the fabric, looking for a monogram like every fucking rich son of a bitch has, and the man chuckles.

He bites Levi’s neck softly, and his voice is darker when he rumbles, “Very funny. You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“Clever?”

“Looking for my initials?”

Shit, this guy is _good_. Levi shrugs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“You could have asked.”

The cloth flutters down in front of him, and Levi snatches at it, startling the man when he tries to pull it away. “You’re fast,” the man says, not letting go.

Levi tugs. “Yeah. Gimme.”

“What if I don’t?”

Levi opens his mouth to reply, but the man rolls him over, one strong arm sliding around his waist, mouth fastening to his with licks, nips, slow, easy sucks of his lips.

“Then,” the man says against his mouth, “I’ll have to be devious.”

One swift tug, and the cloth comes free from Levi’s hand. The man slowly rolls away to stand, stretching out his muscles. “You could have held onto that,” he notes, folding the cloth a few times before tucking it into his pocket. “You have good reflexes.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks. My reflexes.”

The man snorts, and dresses quietly, fastening up each button properly, not hurrying and making mistakes like men do when they’re ashamed of what they’ve done in this room. “Which are your busiest days?”

“Why?”

“So I know when to come. I’d rather come when you won’t lose too much business from those bites after I’m gone.”

Levi glares at him. It’s sort of a sign of affection. “Am I supposed to say that you can come whenever you want, thank you sir for your big dick?”

“Fine, I’ll come whenever I want.” The man gives him another small smile, undeterred by the hissing cat look on Levi’s face, somehow. “And I’ll be back soon.”

His hair is still perfect when he leaves, damn him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes, eventually. Everything has to.

Levi is a professional, damn it.

He doesn’t grunt or protest when this guy grabs his hips and forces him facedown over the table, because he’s a fucking professional, and that’s not what this guy has paid for. Instead, he whimpers, glad he’s facedown so this asshole can’t see his eyes roll. 

He’s an elderly guy this time, with that musty stink that makes Levi’s nose wrinkle, and his fingers tremble slightly as they fist into his hair, giving it a hard yank back until his neck hurts.

“You should pretend to hate it, a good little boy like you,” the old guy whispers, cock bumping excitedly against Levi’s ass.

“I don’t do that.” Not for the kind of money this guy has, and Levi knows it. Doubtless he’s already heard the same from Ted downstairs before he came up here. Other boys here do, but they’re more expensive, because they only get used once every couple of weeks. Sometimes when Levi gets really bored, he considers signing up for that duty. At least he’d have time off. “That shit gets out of control.”

He arches his back, rubbing shamelessly against the guy’s wrinkled old dick, letting out a fake moan as he grimaces. “Besides, how can I pretend not to want something so _nice?_ ”

Gross.

By the time the old guy leaves, Levi almost sprints out of the room, racing back to the dorms to dunk a washcloth in the basin and wipe off fast, squeezing it out between each part of his rubdown, barely wincing when he runs it too hard over bruised-up flesh on his thighs. He scrubs harder over the sticky patch of precum on the back of one thigh. 

At least the geezer hadn’t been able to get it up long enough to shove it in. He _definitely_ doesn’t have time for a proper shit between clients.

Lucas, one bed over, shakes his head. “He might not even show up.”

Lucas is a fucking idiot. He always shows up when he says he will. “Just because you can’t keep ‘em coming back doesn’t mean we all have beef jerky for private parts.”

Lucas tosses a cup at him. Levi dodges, and it shatters on the wall behind him.

“Fucking asshole! You could have caught that!”

“You’ve sucked enough dicks today, buy a new cup.” Levi takes a second to run his comb through the water and deal with his hair. No use looking like he’s been through the mill, even if he has.

The door opens, and Ted glares at both of them. “You’re over a fucking client room. If you want to act like children I’ll fucking sell you like children.”

Rumor says Ted used to have kids. Levi doesn’t trust rumors, but he doesn’t trust Ted, either. 

“Levi, room 8.”

Levi doesn’t ask who it is. Ted isn’t so much of an asshole that he’d risk pissing off someone important just to teach Levi a lesson in manners by giving the guy a different whore. 

There are three kinds of signs Ted hangs on the doors of customer rooms, color-coded because most of the whores can’t read. White means the room is empty. Red means the customer’s paid for a certain amount of time, and Ted stencils in the end of their appointment, knocking and coming in if it’s exceeded. Blue means the customer has a tab running, and no one’s going to be knocking.

For the first time with this guy, the door has a blue sign, and Levi tries not to be somehow flattered.

The man goes by the name of Erwin, and has since their second meeting, though Levi is pretty sure it’s a fake name. Even if he says he doesn’t have a schedule or a preference, he’s showed up at the same time three weeks in a row, and this makes the fourth. Levi isn’t surprised to see him sitting in his chair and drinking, but he’s not bored, either.

_Should be bored. Bored is safe. Bored means you don’t give a shit._

It’s hard to be bored when Erwin looks at him with eager delight in his expressive eyes, and crooks a gentle finger. “Glad you could make it, Eli,” he says, as if Levi spends his time doing anything other than waiting for dicks to shoot cum into his ass.

“Yeah, I took time out of my busy schedule. You want the usual, or are you ordering off the menu?”

The man’s eyes are amused, in good humor, but there’s something else underneath it if Levi’s not wrong. “Would you mind having a drink with me first?”

It’s not an unusual request, but it’s not normal from this guy. “Usually,” he drawls, flopping into the other chair and letting Erwin pour him a drink, “the only guys who do that are the ones who need time to get it up. Or the ones who want the boyfriend experience.”

“Boyfriend experience?”

Levi is 100% sure that this guy knows exactly what he’s talking about, and for some reason, wants to hear it anyway. He leans forward, taking a small sip of his whiskey and not bothering to hide the grimace at the taste. “You want that? I come in, sit on your lap, hi honey, how was your day, did you rip off a titan’s dick, I missed you sooooo much. Want me to cuddle with you all night? Great low rate.”

Erwin finishes his drink, and pours another. “They don’t have dicks. You know that.”

“Not as well as you do.” There’s a challenge in Levi’s voice. That hunger, that desire to know more...it’s too strong. It’s going to make him do something stupid, he’s sure.

“I have the feeling most men don’t ask you for the boyfriend experience.”

“I guess they don’t like the way I do it,” Levi deadpans. “What now, you wanna ask me what went wrong in my life that I wound up here?”

Erwin looks at him, long and piercing, before setting down his drink. “Not particularly. I’m not here looking to save anyone.”

Levi’s shoulders unclench, and it startles him to realize how close he’d been to throwing a punch. He gets that kind, sometimes, guys who want to be his white knight and take him “away from all of this,” though they’re never all that clear about where he’s going after that. Usually to their beds for free. Some trade. “You just seem like the type,” he mutters, although Erwin doesn’t. He doesn’t seem sentimental _or_ delusional, nothing like the guys that have held him too-tight and whispered empty words while cum cooled on his skin.

Erwin hesitates, then reaches for his drink again. “Tell me how you ended up here. Not because I’m trying to save you,” he says firmly, “but because it doesn’t make sense to me. You’ve got the worst temperament of anyone I’ve ever met, I don’t see you working with people unless you have to.”

“‘Working with people,’ huh?” Levi asks, amused enough at his word choice to give in. He leans back, propping up his feet on the guy’s thigh under the table. There’s so much firm bulk of muscle there, he wonders if Erwin even feels his heels. “Few years ago. Every fucking thug is a whore if they’re hungry enough, so I’d been doing it on the side since I was, fuck, I don’t know. Always.”

He pauses for a moment, rolling the glass between his hands. He expects Erwin to interrupt, and that’ll be the end of the story, but he doesn’t. 

Fine.

“I had friends. A gang, whatever. Got our hands on some bootleg 3DMG from the unicorns. We were planning a big job Above, got stabbed in the back by some shit-eating fucker who ratted us out for the cash. I got away.”

The whiskey doesn’t quite take away the bitterness in his mouth, even after Erwin refills his glass. “Ted’s always been after me to get in here. Once all my friends were dead it sounded like a better gig.”

The man’s thick brows furrow. “You didn’t make that up. Why would you tell me the truth?”

Levi shrugs. “Why shouldn’t I, if I feel like it?”

“You won’t tell me your real name, but you’ll tell me your life story?”

“That’s just shit that happened to some dead thugs. My name’s mine. Tell me something about you if you want to know it so bad.”

The man takes another drink, then stoppers up the bottle. “I never said I wanted to know.”

Levi fucking hates this guy. “Whatever. It’s your own money you’re wasting with this pointless fucking conversation.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t like spending time with me.”

“What do you fucking want me to—”

“Come sit on my lap.”

At least that’s something he can do. Levi stands, but the man holds up a hand, alcohol or some excitement flushing his cheeks just slightly. “Take off your clothes first.”

There isn’t all that much to take off. Levi’s never been the best at stripping all slow and sexy, so he doesn’t bother to wear layers like some of the other whores. He watches the man’s eyes track immediately to the bruises on his thighs, watches his jaw firm slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.

The material of the dark blue suit he’s wearing is just as fine as his usual black, and goes better with his eyes. Levi watches the man for clues as to how to sit--on one knee? Straddling both? Sideways like a little fucking kid?

The man parts his legs, so Levi takes that as a cue to slide sideways between them, sitting on one thigh and letting his feet dangle. “Fuck you for being so tall,” he mutters.

“I’m surprised you don’t need to lean on me to keep your balance.”

“I have good balance. Oh, sorry,” Levi drawls and collapses slowly onto the man’s chest. “Thank you for saving me,” he says very seriously, staring up at him. “My fucking tax dollars well spent.”

“Do most of your customers tell you you have a terrible personality?”

“Most of them pay me for it,” Levi answers honestly. “Apparently, I’m a refreshing change.”

Even if he doesn’t want to give this asshole the satisfaction, he can’t quite help the way his hands come up to trace over that muscular chest, down to the abdomen, up again, one finger finding a nipple through the fine-spun shirt and giving it a tweak.

He doesn’t quite expect a strong arm to suddenly crush him closer, and it takes a second before he stops tensing like a startled cat. 

“Sorry,” the man murmurs, and Levi feels the words as much as hears them, pressed up against his chest. “You startled me.”

“I wanna see your scars,” Levi says, changing the subject. “Take off your shirt.”

The man doesn’t call him out on being a bossy brat, as Levi’s expecting. Of course not. Why would he choose _now_ to do something that makes sense?

Instead, he takes off his coat, his weird skinny tie, and unfastens his shirt properly, one button at a time, before letting it hang loose from his shoulders. 

That’s enough, and Levi’s hands trace across the marks of the straps, the few but impressive scars he can see, and on a whim, he lowers his mouth, lips and tongue tracing those same lines.

“You have a fetish for scars?”

“Just yours.” The words come out on accident, and Levi pulls back slightly, frowning. “I—”

The man puts a finger against his lips. “Don’t take it back,” he says softly. “Keep going.”

_I wasn’t going to take it back._

Levi tries to think about what the different scars might be from. Most of them look like they’ve been made by rope burns or knives (probably swords), but there are a couple exceptions. One is a long curling mark up his side, ending just under the left nipple. “Tell me what this one’s from.”

“You don’t want to guess?”

Levi glares at him. “It was infected. I know what that looks like, and this was bad. So you and your Scouting Legion buddies were—”

“Why do you think I’m in the Scouting—”

“Where the fuck else would you be?” Levi snaps. “You’ve got the gear marks, and you’re obviously fucking rich enough that you don’t _have_ to be part of the brass to get a square meal, so you’re probably pretty fucking good, and none of the unicorns ever do anything dangerous enough to get scars like this. And if you were in the fucking garrison, you would’ve gotten a doctor when part of you got sliced open.”

The man stares down at him, and Levi wishes he were a little more readable. He can’t tell anything from those intense blue eyes.

Then slowly, the man reaches down to close a hand over Levi’s, and guides it back to the scar. “Five years ago, I was on a mission outside Wall Maria,” he says quietly, “and a ten-meter class titan grabbed my cloak when we were riding through the trees. I killed it, but it whipped me back against a jagged tree branch, and the fibers from my shirt got stuck into the gash. That’s why it got infected, or at least that’s what the doctor said.”

“So you deserved it for being slow.”

Blue eyes glint, and Levi wonders how many of this man’s friends had died that day. “I always thought so.”

On an impulse, Levi bends down, brushing his lips over the top edge of the jagged scar. “Be faster next time.” Shit, his voice sounds too gentle, that’s _embarrassing_.

In a second, those strong arms crush him again, and Levi finds himself suddenly on the bed, Erwin following only after a brief pause to take off his trousers. He doesn’t usually like being pinned down by a man’s bulk, but the solid weight of this man feels good, feels _right_ , and he stretches out his arms around Erwin’s neck to pull him down.

This is the fourth week in a row, and now he expects the kisses. They overwhelm him even so, shaking him in a way he hadn’t thought something as stupid as a kiss could do. 

Levi tries to remember that he doesn’t _like_ big men who throw their weight around, he doesn’t _like_ being pinned and kissed senseless, but the taste of this man’s mouth is more intoxicating than the alcohol, and the warm, strong presence of him is overwhelming.

It’s not the gentleness of this man’s touch that’s made Levi’s brain spin out of control in the last few weeks. Lots of guys are gentle, because they’re too weak to be different or because they’re too afraid of what will happen or because they’re too boring to think anything else. Erwin is gentle sometimes, but mostly he’s _intense_ , and when he’s gentle, it’s because he wants to be, wants to hold Levi’s body as if it’s something precious when he’s pretty damn sure it isn’t anything special.

One of the man’s hands squeezes his bruised thigh, and Levi lets out a hiss, choking it off when Erwin lets go immediately. “It’s fine,” he mutters, and slides his hands up, ruffling his fingers through that obnoxiously perfect hair. “Keep going.”

There’s slight disapproval in those blue eyes. “Just because you have a high pain tolerance doesn’t mean I want you to use it in bed,” he says mildly, and the next brush of his fingers is feather-light, making Levi squirm. 

Levi glares at him, even as his cock flushes and rises, spurred on by the gentle fingertips dragging over his inner thigh. “I’m not giving your money back just because you make me cum,” he growls, and the man laughs.

“You haven’t any other time, why should I expect it now?” he teases, raising an eyebrow, and Levi kind of wants to kick him.

“Then why—”

“I’m here,” Erwin says firmly, cutting him off mid-sentence with a hard, sucking kiss just under one earlobe, “because it brings me pleasure. That’s why I talk to you, that’s why I want you to enjoy yourself, and that’s why I’m going to fuck you until you scream, Eli. Because it gives me pleasure.”

“Fuck,” Levi mutters, wriggling against the bed, back arching at the low, decisive words. There’s a casual confidence in the way this man (Erwin, whatever his real name is) holds himself, and even more in the way he holds Levi. 

That confidence is intoxicating, and he melts down to the bed, letting his legs splay open, head lolling back as the man kisses his neck, his chest, down the center of his belly before the tip of a hot tongue swipes over his cock.

Levi’s hips jerk up, and his cock bumps against Erwin’s cheek. “Fuck,” he mutters, one hand going down to fist in the man’s perfect hair, determined to mess it up this time. 

“Is that not allowed?”

“You think you’re so fucking special,” Levi groans, shifting his thighs apart wider, rubbing the head over the man’s parted lips. “Lots of old fags like to suck a pretty boy’s dick.”

“You’re not that pretty.”

“You’re not that old. Fuck, just suck my dick, you’re the one who made it hard.”

Soft lips close around the head of his cock like he has any right to ask for anything, like this man is his lover, and Levi’s hands twist in his hair as he groans. A lot of that confidence isn’t exactly missing from the way the man sucks him down, but it’s different. There’s slightly more hesitation, and the licks and gentle sucks are somewhere just shy of tentative, just enough to let Levi know that this guy doesn’t spend all that much time on his knees.

He looks like he’s enjoying himself, though, so Levi doesn’t try to stop him. Plus, he fucking likes getting his dick sucked, and it doesn’t happen nearly often enough. 

Pretty soon, the guy starts pulling off to run his lips down the shaft, bringing his hand up to curl around the base, and Levi snorts. “Cocksucker’s cramp already?”

“Are you too good to let me practice on you?” the man inquires calmly, for all that his face is flushed and there’s a string of drool connecting his lips and Levi’s cock. He leans forward, prodding at the slit in his cock with the tip of his tongue, and Levi lets out a strangled noise.

“G-go ahead, _fuck_ —”

“I will, thank you.”

The man takes his sweet time, and Levi tries to wrap his mind around his luck--that the one guy who gives a shit about sucking every part of his cock is the only customer he’s had in a year with the cash to spend all night doing it. Sometimes it isn’t a bad gig, to have his hand tangled in soft blond hair, getting paid to have his dick sucked by someone who seems to love what he’s doing.

There’s a clock on the wall, unobtrusive but a good reminder for clients who want to plan their visit to the minute. That’s how Levi knows that Erwin spends ten minutes kissing, licking, and nuzzling at his cock and balls and inner thighs before he even tries taking it into his mouth again.

By that time, he’s got his own hands fisted into the sheets, trying hard not to thrust up into the man’s mouth, reminding himself that guys like this probably don’t like being gagged on dick (even if most of them could use it every once in a while). 

He’s good at not using his teeth, and bad about taking in more than an inch or two, obviously trying to master his gag reflex and failing. It’s kind of...cute, and Levi can’t even bring himself to make fun of the other man, not when he’s _trying_ so hard, and when’s the last time he ever saw anyone try like that? For _him?_

Finally, Erwin releases his cock with a wet slurp, letting it smack against his belly, and climbs up to cover Levi’s body with his own. He slides his hands down Levi’s legs to his ankles, hoisting them up to brace over his shoulders, though they barely reach and Levi’s back rolls up a bit. “You have good muscle tone here,” Erwin says, squeezing one thigh before sliding his hands back to cup his ass. “As good as most of the cadets we recruit, I’d say.”

“Do you always squeeze your cadets’ asses when you assess their muscle tone? Or am I spec--nngh!”

Even after a few straight weeks of practice and a few years of taking dick for a living, it’s still a _big_ cock. Levi’s eyes roll back and his mouth falls open, toes curling and fingers twitching involuntarily as the man slides into him in one long, smooth thrust.

The sensation of being suddenly _filled_ is startling, and a whimper catches in Levi’s throat. There’s not much he can do to be part of moving in this position, folded in half with his feet up around his ears, but Erwin doesn’t seem to mind. He moves slow--he always moves slow until the end, filling Levi with easy, thorough motions of his hips, fucking into him with every roll of his body.

Levi hisses out a breath through his teeth in an effort not to start making more embarrassing noises. This guy makes him want to be _loud_ , embarrassingly loud, enough that he wishes he could spread his legs wider just to take it better. 

His eyes are watering, and he blinks them rapidly, squeezing them shut. He knows Erwin sees, always stares at him when they fuck, but at least the bastard doesn’t ask if he’s okay. That would be too humiliating to even bear thinking about. Instead of letting him, Levi wriggles down as much as he can, silently pushing up, letting out a yelp when the man’s thick cock strikes him just right.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, and as if that’s the starting pistol, everything goes wild.

Erwin’s hands drop from caressing him to brace on the bed, bearing his weight to give him more leverage. Levi wrenches his legs to the sides, welcoming the demanding weight of the man between them, wrapping them as far around his waist as he can even though his thighs tremble and ache after less than a minute.

He tilts his head up at the same time as the man leans down, and the kiss is brutal, hungry, searing for both of them, Levi’s hands coming up to rake down his back, Erwin’s hips thrusting harder and harder as Levi urges him on, deeper, _more_.

It isn’t professional, and he’s never done it with another client, but Levi knows by now that this man doesn’t care and doesn’t mind. When he strikes Levi just right and stars burst behind his eyes, he doesn’t try to hold back, letting the shiver start in his abdomen and ripple through his whole body, leaving him a twitching, shuddering mess as he spills hot and wet and _everywhere_ between them, and _shit_ , has he ever come that much in his life? 

He can hear his own heartbeat like a bass drum, or maybe that’s Erwin’s, because once they’re not making the effort to kiss, Levi’s head winds up snug against the other man’s chest.

He can tell himself that it’s good business, but there’s nothing professional about the way he clings to the man through his orgasm, nails digging in to the broad warm back when he feels Erwin flood his ass, and shit, he _always_ comes a lot and it’s always gross later, but in the moment he can’t help but love it.

The man takes maybe ten seconds to catch his breath before he shifts down, grabbing Levi’s face in both hands and kissing him as if it’s the last time, kissing him so hard it’s like he’s been waiting for it, craving it, _cherishing_ it, and Levi can’t do anything but hold on for dear life.

When he pulls away, Levi buries his face into the man’s chest, inhaling deeply. No one smells better than this asshole. No one. He’s always clean and crisp and effortlessly masculine, as light a touch where it counts as everything else about him, and Levi finds himself rather unwilling to let him go. “You’re running up a big tab,” he mutters eventually, reluctantly.

“You’re worth it.”

Levi scowls against his chest, but doesn’t push him away. “You’re a fucking shithead. Ted doesn’t deserve your money.”

“You get a cut, right?”

“Half. But room and board and laundry are comped, so really it’s more. If it wasn’t a good deal, I wouldn’t stay.”

Erwin draws in a breath as if he’s about to speak, and Levi’s heart thuds. _Don’t do it. Don’t ask me to leave and come with you, don’t fuck this up._

He lets out the breath, and relaxes down to the bed. “Can I sleep here? Or am I squashing you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“What?”

“You can sleep here. And you’re squashing me.”

Erwin laughs, low and genuine and warm, and Levi thinks for a minute that he wouldn’t always feel so tired if he could hear that laugh every day.

He’s going to say something else, but the man’s rhythmic breathing and soothing hands make short work of that idea, and he doesn’t even blink until the clock makes most of a full rotation.

Someone pounds on the door, startling them from sleep, and both men stiffen, eyes darting around for clothing. “Go the fuck away,” Levi snarls at the door. “He’s paid for—”

The door opens, and Levi’s halfway through wriggling out from under the man to launch himself fist-first at his manager when he sees a uniform and stops dead.

“Sorry, Captain Erwin,” the man says, running forward and grabbing Erwin’s clothes, kicking the door shut behind him. He tosses what looks like 3D Maneuver Gear on the ground, and shakes out a spare uniform. “You know I wouldn’t be here if—”

“What’s happened? Don’t worry about him, just talk,” Erwin says, with such a tone of instant command that Levi’s cock gives a little twitch. He’s never wanted to be part of something before, but he does now, wants to be a part of the force that gets up and _goes_ when something happens, running towards the danger and launching themselves toward the unknown, and shit, he’s really spending too much time with this asshole if ideas like that are rubbing off.

Erwin’s halfway into his pants when the man says, “It’s the titans. A--it had to be sixty meters, it broke through Wall Maria!”

_I want to come._

Levi watches the man’s face go pale, but his hands don’t shake when he straps on the gear, faster than Levi could have possibly imagined. Levi moves, grabbing a boot and at least tugging that onto the man’s feet, doing whatever tiny thing he can to help when he suddenly feels so useless and so, so small.

The other boot is mostly on when Erwin shifts his weight, shoving his foot the rest of the way in and taking off after the other guy. He spares a half-second’s glance back at Levi, but his feet don’t pause as he runs out the door. Levi’s pretty sure they only hit the stairs twice on the way down, long legs carrying them as fast as possible to a pair of waiting horses that he can hear pelting down the streets.

Only then does the reality sink in. The titans are inside the walls. Everything that had been certain is finished. If Wall Maria can be broken, any wall can be broken, and living inside Wall Sina is no guarantee. There’s no way of knowing how many innocents have already been killed. 

Levi’s blood thrums, and he walks naked to the window, throwing it open and staring at the walls. 

Everything has changed.

Maybe he has, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: yes, there will be more chapters. I have succumbed.


End file.
